


Chapter 6: Love, Don't Let Me Go (Sam/Dean)

by LadyCrystalCastalia



Series: Plaything (The Freak On His Leash) [Sam/Dean] - COMPLETE [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Porn, Post Season 4, Rating: NC17, Rimming, Schmoop, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Whipping, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000, jealous!Dean, possessive!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCrystalCastalia/pseuds/LadyCrystalCastalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s the only one who gets to call him that, and when he stops, Sam feel like he’s withering inside. Lucifer has risen and Ruby has run away, but rogue angels and a legion of demons are still the least of his worries. He just wants his brother back; because there is nothing in the world like being Dean’s “Sammy”.<br/>A/N: An exploration of Dean’s feelings after Lucifer Rising, of Sam’s guilt and motives for going Ruby-side, and of the boys’ pain and enduring love for each other through their most trying time. Follow the erotically codependent Winchester brothers on their chaotic way back to each other as they try to work out their issues (that damn phone call too): dysfunctional couples’ therapy at its finest ;).</p><p>    This chapter: If you love something let it go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Puppet

**CHAPTER 6: LOVE, DON’T LET ME GO **

 

_No matter how I think we grow_

_You always seem to let me know_

_It ain’t workin’_

_It ain’t workin’_

Lauryn Hill – X-Factor

 

**Summary:** If you love something let it go.

**PART I: BROKEN PUPPET**

Dean pulled the curtain aside and looked out the window. The weather matched his mood perfectly, dark and gloomy. He slipped back into bed and watched his brother intently. He had barely slept through the night; troubled, and struggling with the emotions that were roiling within him. After they had driven back from the old barn, they had fallen into his bed and waited for sleep to come, never speaking a word about the macabre ritual they had performed together, away from prying eyes.

In the harsh light of day, he was seeing things differently. The noise that jumbled everything in his head, and had made him blind with rage, had finally quieted down since Ruby had expired. Up until that point, he had been driven by a burning hatred, and it felt like, now that his mind was somewhat at peace, he could see straight again.

He had spent hours thinking of the things they had done. No matter how far he had gone, Sam had never complained, never asked him to stop. At times, when he had been possessed by jealous rage, he had wanted to hurt Sam; make Sam suffer in his flesh as he had in his heart, to punish him for confiding in her, screwing her, and trusting her. Sam had agreed to it all, hoping to be forgiven, and Dean had been in complete control, leaving Sam no option but to shut up and do whatever was asked of him. As a consequence, everything that had come of that unholy arrangement had been a lie.

He had thought it was Ruby who had gotten between them; she was responsible for the mess they were in. It was only partly true. She was just a symptom of the problems they had had for a long time, only amplified. Many times, before she ever entered the picture, Sam had left him of his own accord. No matter how badly he wanted to forget it, Dean could no longer run from the truth.

He brushed a mussed lock of hair from Sam’s face and stroked the smooth skin above his brother’s right eyebrow, dragging his thumb over one of the beauty mark that dotted the handsome face. His shoulders sagged under the weight of defeat. Sam had given him everything he wanted, it was time for him to return the favor.

Sam stirred and moved closer to Dean, a frown creasing his forehead, as if he could sense something was wrong. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking sleep away.

“Dean?” he called, when he saw the sober expression on his brother’s face.

Dean answered with a stiff smile, “Hey, baby boy.”

“Hey.”

Sam touched the side of his brother’s face and moved closer to give him a kiss. He was aiming for the lips, but Dean turned his head and hid his face in the crook of his neck, wrapping his arms around him and holding a little too tight. Sam heaved a soft sigh and started playing with the short strands of his brother’s hair, trying to push away the worry that was creeping up on him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

Dean closed his eyes, engraving every detail of the moment into his memory so he would never forget it. Everything about the kid made him ache with a longing so intense he sometimes feared it would drive him insane. 

“Yeah,” he lied. He could do this. No, he _had_ to do this, there was no other choice. But he wasn’t doing it here, in the one place he wanted to stay curled up with Sam and suspended in time so he could keep the masquerade going longer than it should, pretending that the real world and their numerous issues didn’t exist. He pulled away from his brother’s arms and turned around so Sam wouldn’t see the tears gathering in his eyes. “Let’s go get some breakfast!” he suggested, and he bounced out of the bed.

Sam chewed on his lip and watched his brother head toward the bathroom. _Don’t be paranoid_ , he reasoned with himself. _He’s fine. Everything’s fine. We’re…we’re fine._

 

*

 

  
_See I know what we got to do_

_You let go, and I let go too_

_‘Cause no one hurt me more than you_

_And no one ever will_

Lauryn Hill – X-Factor

 

They had a quick breakfast filled with covert glances and awkward silences. Each was absorbed in his thoughts: Sam trying to deny the sense of dread that was growing in the pit of his stomach, and Dean using the respite offered by the morning meal to figure out how he was going to approach the topic.

They got back in the car and kept quiet until Dean parked the Impala in front of the motel and told Sam he would join him in a minute.

He waited for Sam to enter their room and started stuffing every bill he had in his pockets, except one, inside the hidden compartment at the passenger’s feet in the floor of the Impala. Then he opened the trunk, grabbed a spare handgun, a few salt rounds, a box of silver bullets and two wooden stakes that he stuffed into his duffel and slammed it shut, taking a moment to glide his hand over the lustrous black surface.

He gave one last, long look to his prized possession and walked up to their room door. When he opened it, his eyes fell on Sam, sitting on the couch, right leg twitching nervously, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to delay his announcement any longer. Sam had picked up on his sullen mood, and when his baby brother looked up at him, the fear and the quiet hope in the breathtaking hazel eyes made Dean feel worse about what he was about to do.

 

He dropped his bag on the floor and stood there, not knowing where to start, then he moved a few steps back and leaned against the table near the window, gripping it to steady himself.

“Sam.” He decided to go straight to the point. “I get that you were trying to take out the bad guys, save our necks, and keep me safe. Hell, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t showed up right before Alastair could tear me limb from limb. I believe your intentions were good, that you got lost along the way, and that at some point the bitch blood took over.”

 _There, that wasn’t so hard was it_ , he encouraged himself before releasing his grip on the wood plank. He looked into Sam’s eyes, needing his brother to believe him, and said, “I want you to know that I’m not angry anymore.”

Sam got up and walked toward Dean, hanging on his every word. Dean pressed himself against the piece of furniture, as if he could create enough distance to keep Sam from ever reaching him. His fingers tensed around the table’s edge once again, knuckles turning white.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were on a tight leash sometimes. Man, you hated Dad for doing that to us. I wasn’t always listening, either. We both know how I get when you try to bring up stuff I don’t wanna hear,” he admitted with a sad smile. “Sam, I want you to know that I always saw you as my pain-in-the-ass little brother, even when you felt that I looked at you as if you were…” –Dean refused to use that one word that hurt Sam to his core, and made him see red like a wounded bull, ever again. “I’m sorry I called you that. I can see now, how some of the things I did made you want to run the opposite direction, and I get that you wanted to be your own man; you have every right to be.”

Sam watched his brother get paler and paler in front of his eyes, the way he did when he got sick, or when he tried to hide a hunting injury that was slowly draining him of his blood. “Dean, this sounds really good and all,” he said, “but why do I feel like I’m not going to like the rest?”

Dean looked down at the light brown carpet. “You’ll be fine. Maybe there will be a slight period of adjustment, but you’ll be fine,” he assured. “We’ll both be okay,” he added, trying to convince himself that he would somehow make it.

Sam shook his head no and moved closer. “Please stop talking.”

“I can’t. I need to say this and you need to hear it.” Dean looked back at his brother. Sam was proud, hardheaded like any Winchester worth his salt, and most of all, rebellious. He hated nothing more than feeling he was being controlled, yet, to mend fences with Dean, he had allowed his brother to go where no one had gone before, and would ever go again. Sam had given him a part of him no one else ever had, and no matter what happened, it would be Dean’s to keep. He wouldn’t ask for more, and he was through letting his brother whore himself out to satisfy his once burning need for retribution.

Sam was everything to him: everything that was beautiful and good; and the one thing on this God forsaken planet that was worth dying for a hundred times and more. Still, in a frenzy of rage, he had reduced him to nothing, a mindless pet; a docile, slavish fuck doll; and Sam had let him. “What you gave me, I’m aware of what it took out of you…”

“I know what you’re doing,” Sam interrupted. “You’re trying to figure out a way to make yourself the bad guy here. So, what it was s a little out there? When have we ever done things the normal way? I loved it, and so did you. It brought us closer than anything else could have. I don’t regret a minute of it, and neither should you!”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

It was bigger than this twisted little thing they had going. It was the realization that, sooner or later, Sam would run off again, alone or with someone else, to get as far away from Dean as he could. Dean was the same man he had always been, a hunter, an outlaw, a big brother who, for all the love he had in his heart, was still authoritative, controlling, possessive, overprotective, overbearing, sometimes insensitive, and very unskilled in the arts of sharing emotions in the way Sam needed.

He wasn’t sure how but sooner or later, he would drive Sam away again. Every time it happened, it broke a little more of him, and now after he had had all of Sam, he simply couldn’t wait around for the day his brother would tire of being around him again. He had to let Sam go, for Sam’s sake, and for his own sanity.

He dug in his pocket and handed Sam the key to their home on wheels. He had put enough in the secret compartment to know he wasn’t sending his brother off to live under a bridge. “Take the Impala,” he said, choosing the gentlest way to tell Sam he wanted him out.

“Don’t do this,” Sam pleaded. “Haven’t I proven that I’ll do anything for you? What does that get me?”

“Enough respect for me to put a stop to this insanity, before we destroy whatever’s left of us! Enough honesty to admit that I’m taking advantage of your guilt to make you do things you don’t want to do. My apologies for everything I’ve _ever_ done wrong, and your chance to finally be free!

“I did these things because I love you and I trust you!”

“I know.” Dean pressed the key inside Sam’s palm, insisting, “It’s for the best.”

“Whatever happened to not giving up on us?”

“I’m not. I just want to give us a chance to be brothers again, cause this sure ain’t the way. I’m not saying we’ll never see each other again.”

“You mean a few days?”

Dean looked away.

“Longer?”

“Sam, I don’t know.”

“No. This is an order I won’t obey, unless you want to give me my collar back?” Sam asked, defiance burning in his eyes.

“You’re never wearing that thing again. And no, it’s is not an order.”

Closing the distance between them, Sam grasped his brother’s head and pressed his lips to his. Dean couldn’t stop himself from responding to the kiss.

“Dean, don’t push me away again, please” Sam asked, as Dean pulled away. “I love you.”

“And you think _I_ don’t love you?” Dean asked, shaking Sam by his shoulders.

“Then why? What else do you want me to do!?”

“Nothing.”

It was so definitive. How did one argue with _nothing_?

Sam tried. “No.”

“Okay. I can leave then, you stay,” Dean offered. “I just wanted you to be free to go wherever you wanted, but you can stay here if you prefer.”

“I don’t care about here or somewhere else! I just want to be where you are!”

Dean gently rubbed his brother’s wrists and pushed Sam’s hands from his face. “I’ll go,” he decided. He walked away and started picking up his things.

A sick feeling came over Sam when he saw his brother roll up his clothes and shove them inside his duffle bag. There was something terrifying about watching the one person he thought would always be there getting ready to walk out on him. He wouldn’t do it.

“I’ll go,” Sam decided, thinking that this way at least, he would know where Dean was and where to find him.

He gathered his meager belongings in a daze then stood next to his bed. He looked at his brother, who had placed himself at the opposite end of the room, and prayed Dean would come to his senses, see how wrong this was, or tell him he was just toying with him, that this was just another variation of the game they had been playing, a little pain before the pleasure… but the master looked down, denying him his reward.

Sam grabbed his bag, suddenly furious. He wanted to scream and fight his brother until he had knocked some sense into him. Then, as quickly as his anger had flared, it was gone, and he was left empty, hopeless, and utterly lost. He turned to look at his brother one last time, then he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Dean stood frozen for a while. When he managed to get moving again, almost fifteen minutes had passed. He locked the door, denying himself a last glance through the window to see if the Impala had moved.

The noise jolted Sam, who was still outside, out of his shock. _What if this was a test?_ he thought. To see how easily he would walk away when faced with the first difficulty. He turned around and started banging on the door.  

“Dean!” he yelled. “I’ll stir up the whole fucking neighborhood if you don’t open this door!”

Dean slid to the floor and let his tears fall freely. “Please Sammy, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, knowing Sam couldn’t hear, but hoping his brother would somehow feel his words of comfort. “You’ll be better off, you’ll see. I promise you. I promise you.”

Sam would get over it. He would get the chance to make his way on his own, and when they would meet again, they would have put the ugliness and confusion behind them, and have another shot at being brothers again.

Dean heard his name being called, between cries and knocks on the other side, and felt the taste of his own blood fill his mouth when he bit into his fist to keep his sobs down. He had thought it was better that they did this now, rather than in the future, where it would surely kill him. Well, it was killing him already, and hearing Sam’s cries only added to the already unbearable pain.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wood, battling the part of him that wanted to crawl on his knees to beg Sam to forget everything he had just said and come back to him. “It’s going to be okay, baby,” he whispered again.

He hoped his brother had somehow sensed it, when the knocking stopped, and the sudden silence was followed by the sound of the Impala pulling out of the motel parking. Dean’s heart skipped a beat. He wondered, for a second, if it would stop completely, but it kept going, reminding him with every beat that he had finally lost everything.

 

_Part II – A Master On His Knees_


	2. A Master On His Knees

**PART II: A MASTER ON HIS KNEES**

Dean woke up abruptly when his phone rang. He squinted at the alarm clock and yawned. 3:24 am. After spending the day in a fog following Sam’s departure, he had struggled to find sleep, and he was being woken up an hour after he had finally managed to close his eyes. He grabbed his phone, flipped it open, and found he had a new text message. He sat up straight, fully alert when he saw who it was from. It only said one thing: _Door_.

He turned on the light, walked with quick steps to the door, and opened it wide. There was nothing outside but the wind and chilly night. He stepped back inside and felt something crinkle under his foot. His heart sank when he noticed the piece of paper. Sam had been there…

He picked up the envelope and stared at it, afraid to open it, feeling like he was holding a bomb that could snuff out the fragile, dwindling flame still burning in his chest. At best, it would be a goodbye letter; at worst, words of disownment from a brother who now loathed Dean for throwing him out, after using him like a plaything.

Dean closed the door and kept staring at the letter. _When had Sam left it there?_ Dean knew he would have recognized the sound of the Impala if his brother had parked near the motel; unless Sam had come during the short lapse of time when he had been asleep. Had Sam turned the car around, come back, and left the note, or had he been there the whole time?

His finger shook when he slipped it underneath the fold of the envelope to tear it open. He flattened the paper against the door and let his eyes trail over the words written by the familiar handwriting.

_How could I have known, that you forgiving me, would be the worst thing that could happen._

_At least when you were angry, you wanted me around, if only to punish me._

_Maybe you thought I was enjoying it all too much. You were right._

_I wanted you to take me as you wished and do whatever pleased you._

_I simply wanted to be yours again._

The ground seemed to waver under Dean’s feet. He leaned his forehead against the hard wood. _He’ll understand_ , he told himself, trying to hold on to the hope that this whole mess would sort itself out somehow. “Give it time, baby,” he begged, pushing down the lump in his throat. _Hurts now, but in the end, you’ll be better off._

It didn’t matter that he wanted to keep Sam with him even more than Sam wanted to stay. They had tried this before, and the ending was always the same. The caged bird flew away, returning to the joys and perils of freedom in the wild, leaving Dean behind, every time a little more broken inside.

Clutching the letter, he staggered into bed, wrapped his fingers around his amulet, and pressed his face into the pillow, still smelling a bit of Sam in there. He didn’t sleep a wink, and when morning came, he stumbled out, red-rimmed eyes and haggard steps, to buy a few bottles of cheap whiskey to help him get through the week.

When he came back, another surprise awaited him under his door. He put the heavy paper bag down and went searching for the one who had delivered it. He wandered around the motel, looking everywhere for his brother, and sat on the curb of the parking lot for half an hour, hoping to catch Sam if he came back around. When he finally accepted that Sam was gone, for good this time, he went into his room to open the second letter.

_I’ll be your shadow, faithful and obedient._

_Don’t care what I have to do, who I have to kill._

_I’ll be your slave, your slightly broken toy._

_Just pick it up and glue it back together._

_All you have to do is call, I’ll come running._

Dean felt his resolve begin to crumble as he read the pleading words. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sam’s number, but he hung up right before the connection was established, and grabbed a bottle instead. He dragged himself to bed, as if he was twice his age, and tortured himself, reading his brother’s notes until his eyes were swimming, and looking at Sam’s name on the speed dial once in a while just to make it sting a little more.  

Days blended into nights, then into days again, in a blur of alcohol, undialed phone calls, crumpled letters read too many times, and memories of Sam’s warm body next to him in a bed he hardly seemed able to leave anymore.

Three days after Sam’s last letter, Dean had no news and was sick with worry. _That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?_ a voice that sounded a lot like his own sneered in his head, first thing in the morning. It wasn’t what Dean wanted. He wanted Sam here, with him, never leaving again. The cynical smart mouth with the hard-ass shell wanted the happy ending that would never be; and he was dying to call his brother, just to see if he was okay; but he wouldn’t.

Dean knew he had to stop smothering Sam as he had, too often in the past. He wanted to give his brother some space, the chance to forget, heal, and move on to brighter things. But he also knew, deep down, that Sam was hurting, especially since he had received no reply to his second letter, and he was going out of his mind with worry, wondering how Sam was doing, whether he was taking care of himself.

 _Perhaps I could track him down and trail him for a couple of days, just to make sure everything’s all right?_ Dean shook his head at the idea, scoffed, and covered his eyes with his palm. _You’re pathetic man,_ he said to himself, _and while you sit here, moping in the dark, the world is going to Hell._

He rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, brushed his teeth, and changed t-shirts in a much needed step toward normalcy. His stomach growled and he glanced at the old box of pizza he had barely touched in two days. His body was hungry, but he wasn’t interested in feeding it. He was content to run on fumes, pain, and whiskey. His eyes fell on the brown bag still on the floor near the door, and he cursed when he remembered that he had emptied the last bottle hours ago.

He stumbled back into the messy room, tripping over clothes, empty bottles, and a broken lamp, vaguely remembering his outburst from a night ago; him swinging around until the bleeding cuts on his right hand forced him to interrupt his little rampage to pour some liquor on his wounds, before guzzling down the rest.

He grabbed his wallet, searching for money to go buy a cup of coffee, and cursed again when he found it empty. He had maxed out his credit card after paying for five more nights in the motel. He was supposed to hustle some pool days ago, but putting his mind to such productive use would have gotten in the way of his pity party, therefore he had forgotten all about it. He looked for spare change in his pockets, and when he had gathered enough coins, he finished getting dressed and walked to the door. His heart stopped, then began thundering in his chest, when he saw it on the floor. Another one. One that wasn’t there the day before.

He grabbed the envelope and tore it open. His eyes flew over the page. _  
_

_When I talked to Bobby, he said that, while I was at my worst, you told him you would take me as I was._

_I gave you all I was, kept and hid nothing._

_I guess you changed your mind._

Dean dropped the letter and yanked the door open.

“Sam?” he called. “… _Sam_!!!”

_~~  
~~ _

_Part III – Sweet Child Of Mine_


	3. Sweet Child Of Mine

**PART III: SWEET CHILD OF MINE**

 

_Care for me, care for me  
I know you care for me  
There for me, there for me  
Said you'd be there for me  
Cry for me, cry for me  
You said you'd die for me  
Give to me, give to me  
Why won't you live for me_

_Cry for me, cry for me  
  
_

_…You said you'd die for me_

Lauryn Hill – X-Factor

Dean burst outside. He scanned up and down the sidewalk, and ran to the parking lot when he spotted the Impala. He surveyed the inside of the vehicle, looking for a bag, a piece of clothing, a soda can; anything that would indicate that Sam was still around, that he hadn’t just dropped the car off for Dean.

Sam always meticulously cleaned up after himself before leaving any place for good, and when Dean found no sign of his brother in the car, he stood back, his hands over his head, petrified. He soon felt a prickly sensation on the back of his neck and spun around, his eyes widening when he saw the man standing next to his motel room, staring at him, a military back pack and a computer bag slung over his shoulders.

In a few strides, Dean was in front of his brother. Sam looked as bad as Dean felt; miserable, and at the end of his rope. Dean touched the unshaven face and swiped his thumbs over his brother’s cheeks, noticing the circles under the sad eyes.

“You said you wouldn’t give up on us.”

Sam sounded so tired, Dean noted with worry. _Where had he been? What had he been doing?_ _ ___

“Why are you still here?” he asked softly.

“’Cause you are,” Sam said with a little shrug.

Dean took Sam by the hand and pulled him inside the room. “I thought… you’d be far from here by now,” he said, as he took Sam’s bags from him to set them on the floor.

“I thought you needed time,” Sam replied, the slight shake in his voice showing that he had waited as long as he could, and wasn’t sure he could hold on much longer.

Dean put his arms around Sam and pulled him into a hug. “You been here all this time?” he whispered against Sam’s ear, feeling the claws of guilt sink a little deeper into his chest.

“Not far,” Sam admitted. “I don’t want to leave without you, Dean, please don’t make me,” he asked, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder.

“Sam…” _  
_

They held each other close; the frustration, weariness, and agony of the last few days dropping on them like stones. They moved as one, unsteady and exhausted, as Dean led them backwards, and let themselves fall to floor as soon as they bumped into something.  They clung to each other, Dean leaning against the foot of his bed and Sam resting on his brother’s chest, an arm thrown around Dean’s waist.

“Look at us,” Dean joked after a healing silence. “We’re supposed to save the world. These people are screwed.”

Sam let out a weak chuckle, and Dean pressed a light kiss to his brother’s brow.

“You’re not a toy, Sam,” Dean said in apology.

“Mm.”

“And I never changed my mind.” Dean ran his knuckles along the line of Sam’s jaw. “You’re everything I want, all I need; and it scares me.”

“Dean…”

“Sh…” Dean slid his hand into Sam’s pocket.

“What?” Sam asked, surprised, although he wasn’t complaining.

“I’m broke,” Dean explained.

“Of course, you are. You left me almost everything, and you blew the rest on booze.”

Dean had a little smile, pleased that his brother had the sense to check the hidden compartment. He pulled Sam’s money clip out and asked, “Want a salad?”

Sam shook his head. His stomach growled, confirming that something so meager was just not going to cut it this time. “I’ll have what you have,” he said, knowing that whatever Dean would pick would at least be filling.

Dean looked at Sam. “When was the last time you ate?”

Sam thought about it a moment. “Not sure,” he answered honestly.

“Me neither.”

Dean tightened his hold around Sam’s shoulders and he dug into his brothers pocket again to borrow his phone, since he couldn’t reach his own in the position they were in.

He didn’t want to get up to grab the menu stapled to the pizza box eithe. He had a vague recollection of the restaurant’s number, so he tried a couple of combinations, and lucked out after the third try.

“Tommy’s, hold the line please,” a voice answered.

Sam shifted against Dean. “Need a shower,” he mumbled.

“Go. I’ll take care of the delivery guy,” Dean said.

Sam nodded. He pulled himself to his feet, stretched his tall frame, and cracked the joints that were protesting after too many nights spent in the backseat of the Impala. Dean watched him yawn and roll his neck as he walked away, and his mouth curved into a small smile.

Who was he kidding? He did not have it in himself to turn Sam away one more time. If Sam wanted to be with him now, he wouldn’t fight it. And the day Sam would get tired and leave, the time spent together would still have been worth it.

When Sam turned around and looked at him, a little frown on his forehead and his mouth tight with worry, Dean knew exactly what his brother needed to hear.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, before Sam disappeared in the bathroom, a shy smile on his relieved face.

“Tommy’s? ...How may I help you? …Hello!” The irritated male voice at the end of the line finally caught Dean’s attention.

“Yeah, uh.” He cleared his throat. “So, what’s the Hungry Hippo special again?” he asked.

*

 

After an invigorating shower and a shave, Sam tumbled into his bed and fell asleep on the spot. He never stirred, even while Dean cleaned up the rest of the room, putting the empty bottles, broken lamp, and the mess that was littering the floor away; or when he opened the window to let some fresh air in.

Dean let his brother sleep while he wolfed down a greasy foot-long steak sandwich with equally greasy fries and washed them down with Coke. He took a shower, left Bobby a message to tell the old man they were still alive and well, and flipped the channels until he found a decent movie to pass the time.

An hour or so later, he put half of the large vegetarian pizza in a plate and heated it in the microwave. He climbed into Sam’s bed and moved the steaming plate in circles above his brother’s face, smiling when Sam’s nose finally twitched, awakened by the mouthwatering scent.

“Hey,” he said when Sam opened his eyes. “I would have let you sleep, but you really need to eat something.”

Sam yawned, twisted around, and sat up, eyeing the mushrooms, green peppers, fresh tomatoes, and black olives with great interest. He grinned at Dean to thank his brother for ordering all the toppings he liked, for once, and reached for a slice.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Dean warned, and he put the plate down to hand Sam a napkin.

He watched Sam devour one slice, then another, noting his unusual enthusiasm as he stuffed his empty stomach, and he felt disheartened by the way their time apart had affected his little brother.

Sam kicked Dean’s thigh when he saw the clouds gather in his brother's eyes. “Guess that’s what happens, when you’re not around to feed me anymore,” he joked, trying to diffuse the tension.

Dean’s fingers curled around his brother’s ankle, rubbing it gently. “Oh, so now we’re resorting to emotional blackmail? Hunger strike? That’s original.” Dean tried to sound amused, but he was unable to hide his concern.

“Whatever works,” Sam replied, the glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes showing that he was no longer kidding.

Dean stared at his brother, wondering for a moment if Sam was trying to tell him he would hurt himself if they separated again, but when Sam looked back at him, and pointedly glanced at the empty bottles sticking out from the trash can, Dean had to admit that he hadn’t handled their time apart any better. The message was clear: Each had been gloriously miserable without the other.

Sam looked away and reached toward the plate. Dean watched him fight with the melted cheese as he tried to a separate two slices with one hand, too lazy to peel his back off the pillow to involve the other one.

Dean’s laughter lightened the atmosphere. He broke the slices apart and raised one to his brother’s mouth. Sam grinned in approval and let his brother feed him, only using his own hand to pull Dean’s closer when the food was too far from his mouth.

“You’re such a baby sometimes,” Dean commented, but he pushed the tip of the last slice into Sam’s mouth all the same. He watched Sam eat it all and lick the tomato sauce off Dean’s fingers before looking at Dean expectantly.

 _Spoiled brat_ , Dean thought fondly. “Want more?” he asked, playing along.

Sam shook his head and kept looking at Dean until Dean rolled his eyes and got up to get the half empty two-liter bottle of Coke. Sam grabbed it, drank noisily until he was full and let out a discreet burp.

“I think I’m good now,” he said, “and sleepy.”

 _Eat, burp, and sleep_. Dean rolled his eyes again. He cleared the bed and pulled the covers over Sam. Sam sank into the pillow, then he reached back to grab Dean’s hand and placed it on his stomach.

Dean obeyed the silent request and curled his arm around his brother’s waist. He leaned against Sam’s back, planted a kiss in the dip of his brother’s shoulder and waited, faithful guardian, prepared not to move a muscle until Sam had fallen asleep.

He would take care of his baby as long as Sammy let him.

 

_[Part IV: Lovers’ Pledge](http://ladycrystal-c.livejournal.com/30341.html#cutid1) _


	4. Lovers’ Pledge

** PART IV: LOVERS’ PLEDGE **

When Sam woke in the middle of the afternoon, he was alone in his bed. He stretched his limbs, rolled onto his back and he saw his brother sitting in the armchair, his back turned to him, watching TV with subtitles to make as little noise as possible.  
  
He smiled, feeling joy at the sight of Dean. The past few days had felt like months, and he had been so lonely without him.

He looked around the room. The panels where Dean had tied him up several times and made him climax so hard he had tears spilling from his eyes; the corner where he had waited for his master’s call before earning the right to come on the very bed he was lying in. He turned his head and his cheeks flooded with color when he glanced at the table where Dean had spanked him more than once and taken him for the very first time. 

Everywhere he looked reminded him of moments that were filled with such intensity and passion that they had woven a bond between them that could never be broken. He had always loved Dean, just not known how much, and when he had experienced, for a short while, what life would be like if he lost his brother’s love, any doubt Sam ever had disappeared for good.    
  
He knew what he wanted; the two of them, together, always. He had been wilting like a plant torn up from its roots without Dean and he needed to make sure his brother wouldn’t try to break them up again the first chance he got.

He pushed the covers down, walked into the small living room, and squeezed himself into the armchair next to Dean. Dean scooted over to make what little room he could. He pulled Sam’s legs up and placed them over his lap so they could both fit into the seat. His smile melted off his face when he looked at his brother: Sam had his “we have to talk and it’s serious” face on, and he wasted no time getting to the point.

“I know you love me. You say you’ve forgiven me. I know the forgetting part is gonna take a while and I’m okay with that; but we were on the right track, so I’d like to understand why?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I thought, sure, you might not like it at first. I actually thought you would be mad,” Dean replied, “but I was sure, if you just took the time to think about it, you’d see it was good thing and you would move on. I never expected that you’d take it so hard, much less stick around.”

“Really?” Sam asked in a pained voice. “Just like that? You thought I’d walk, without a care in the world, and never look back?”

“The Sam I know could have;” Dean said softly, no accusation in his tone as he was simply stating what he believed to be a cold hard fact, “and if we hadn’t let things get so confusing and crazy…”

“I’m glad we did. I needed to go past that fear and figure out how far I could actually go if I didn’t have the option to run away like I always do. And I know what I want now. You, and me, the two of us. I thought you might want that too.”

“You know I do. I just didn’t want to wait around for the day you’d take off again.”

Sam lowered his eyes. He knew that his track record spoke against him; that even if he said he never wanted to be apart again, Dean remembered all too vividly a time when Sam felt otherwise. He didn’t have the power to change the past. What was he supposed to do? “What do I have to do to convince you that I love you?”

“Nothing. I know it now.”

“Then why are you so sure I’ll leave again? I stayed, didn’t I?”

“Because, even if you’re sure of what you feel, in a way you weren’t before, whatever drove you away all those times is gonna happen again. Sam, whatever it is that you need, whatever it is that you’re looking for, I just don’t have it. Or not enough of it. I wish to God I did, but what’s the point in trying, wasting our time, hurting each other more as we get in too deep if we know how it’s going to end already? Things would be simpler if you found someone bett...”

“That’s not true. I don’t want anyone else. I want you, just the way you are.”

“Whatever _I_ am has never been able to keep you before. What makes you think it will now?”

“Dean…”

“I can make an effort, Sam, I can try, hell I want to, but that’s never going to be enough.”

Sam’s face crumbled. It was painful, hearing Dean say flat out they didn’t have a snow ball’s chance, because he believed that deep down Sam pretty much disliked everything Dean was. Had his brother completely missed the part where Sam would have rather stayed at the end of a leash or let himself waste away than go another day without Dean? 

“You say that like I appreciate nothing about you, like it’s this horrible chore to be around you. You’re the one I want, Dean. We just have to work on a few things! I did, and I’m still trying. All I’m saying is no one gets it perfectly right without putting in a little work. I just need you to be a little more patient sometimes. To listen and try to understand where I’m coming from instead of just blowing up, so I don’t always feel so scared when I have something to tell that I know you won’t like. I need you to try to talk things out, cause they _always_ come back to bite us in the ass when we sweep them under the rug. I need you to stop shutting me out when things get uncomfortable.” 

“No _no chick flick moments_?” Dean asked, trying to erase the sadness on his brother’s face.

Sam sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “See, I’d be very happy if I never heard that again. People have to talk, Dean, about everything!”

“Okay.” Dean smiled and started tickling the back of Sam’s knees.

“Don’t try and change the subject.” Sam reprimanded, looking even sadder than he did before.

Dean looked down at his hands, catching himself in the act. He was doing it again. Sam was pouring his heart out, and even if he wasn’t throwing a punch or turning the volume up on the radio to shut him up, he was still trying to cut the ‘moment’ short by making Sam laugh.

He was a work in progress, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make things work. 

“I’m not,” he said, touching the side his little brother’s face. He didn’t want Sam to be afraid to come to him about anything ever again. How sad was it, that he was willing to die for him over and over, but had never managed to make Sam feel safe enough to confide in his big brother, or seek comfort from him when he needed it? “I’m not, babe,” he repeated, his thumbs brushing the soft skin. “You need me to calm down, and listen; talk things out, not keep all that crap in, drop the stupid walls, and lean on you sometimes when things are hard; especially, when things are hard. I hear you, Sam.”

“That’s all. That’s all I ask. Are you saying you can’t give me that? Are you saying that you won’t?”

“Of course I can; and I will,” Dean promised solemnly, closing his arms around Sam.

Sam rested against his brother. He was exhausted from all the bargaining but victorious and he would go back into battle anytime it was necessary. They were worth it. What they had was one of a kind. They might have had their share of difficulties but they were meant to be. They would be happier than Dean could even dream, and together they would be invincible. He just knew it. “Then it’s settled,” he concluded.

Dean scoffed, amused and impressed by his brother’s tenacity. Sam turned Dean’s face toward his and added, “I know you’re scared, I used to be scared, too. There’s nothing I can do today to prove to you that our future is not the nightmare you think it’ll be; so I’m gonna ask you to have a little faith, in me; trust me with your heart like I trusted you with all of me. …What do you say?”

Dean pressed their foreheads together, and whispered with a slight nod, “Yes,” astonished that Sam had actually managed to put most of his fears to rest. 

He had already decided that, even if their expiration date was near and their end bloody, he was willing to take the risk to have Sam a little longer. However, he had never entertained the idea that this might be the real deal for Sam; that Sam really wanted him, not because he had taken a liking to kinky sex with his ‘master’, or because he feared he would lose his big brother if he didn’t play ball, but simply because he loved Dean too much to envision a future without him. He would always have insecurities ― his name was Dean Winchester and he had major abandonment issues, but knowing Sam was in it for keeps was all the reassurance he needed.

Sam gave his brother a kiss to seal their deal and they changed seats to be more comfortable. They spent the rest of the afternoon lazing on the couch, wrapped up in each other, mending their wounds, lost on their little island away from the world, and only separated when Dean went out to get Sam a salad shake he teased Sam mercilessly over, and buy chili fries and a candy bar for himself.

At night, they fell into the bed closest to the couch. Dean pushed Sam into the pillows. He delved his tongue between his brother’s parted lips, and pressed a myriad of kisses on his mouth, each more passionate than the last. He felt Sam’s fingertips stroke his lower back and he dug his hand into Sam ’ s hair as the kisses intensified. He explored the moist cavity, hungry and possessive, keeping his mouth sealed to Sam’s until he felt his brother gasp into the kiss. He broke away, nipping at the soft bottom lip to give Sam a moment to catch his breath.

“I could kiss you all night,” Dean whispered, as he slid his lips over the beauty mark on Sam’s jaw, taking a little detour across his throat before coming back up to claim Sam’s lips again.

Sam was more than happy to grant his brother’s wish and let him have his way as long as he wanted, but there was something he wanted even more, _needed_ , actually. He pushed Dean back, lowered his eyes and bit his kiss swollen lip, looking hesitant.

“Something wrong?” Dean asked.

“No. I just… Dean, would you do something for me?”

“Anything you want, Sammy.”

Dean saw the expression on his brother’s face change. He watched a veil tear in two to reveal a long hidden pain and felt a weight fall off Sam’s chest. 

“Do you know the last time you called me that?” Sam asked, his voice, thin as a thread.

Dean leaned down to kiss the eyelids that were closing, probably to keep the tears in, only now realizing how much it had hurt Sam; how _that_ had been his greatest punishment, and how sad Sam had been when Dean had withheld this symbol of his unconditional love and affection. 

He put his lips to Sam’s ear and whispered, “I love you, Sammy. Always have, even when I was being an ass; and I always will.”

A soft smile floated on Sam’s lips. Before he could reply, he f elt Dean’s embrace tighten around him, kisses raining down on his face, gentle like a spring breeze. When his brother’s lips brushed over his, he cupped Dean’s nape to draw him closer, and opened his mouth to let him in. The last wall tumbled down, leaving them stripped and unarmed, without any shield to hide their battle scars. 

Their bodies melded into each other and the kiss deepened, their tongues moving in a slow, endless dance while they rubbed their erections together through the layers of their jeans. They let go of each other lips and Sam let his brother undress him, lifting his arms and hips so Dean could remove his t-shirt and pull his pants down. He lay on his back, body offered up as he spread his legs, and waited for what came next, his eyes heavy with want.

Dean let his lips glide over Sam’s skin, exploring and savoring every inch of his brother’s body as he worked his way back up; the sensitive area behind Sam’s knees, the firm flesh of his inner thighs, the hollow of his hipbone...

Sam’s muscles tensed under the hot mouth as Dean traced a path of kisses up his stomach. He followed the movement with his gaze, finding it harder to breathe as Dean got closer.  A whimper caught in his throat when Dean bit into his nipple and slowly drew it into his mouth. He pulled his brother up for a tongue-searching kiss, and shuddered when Dean shifted to the curve of his neck to rake his teeth across his flesh. He reached down, grabbed the hem of Dean’s T-shirt, and watched his brother’s muscles roll as he was pulling the piece of clothing over Dean’s head. 

Dean lifted himself up to do away with his jeans then he slid down Sam’s body to focus on the part he had neglected up until now. He licked a trail up the underside of Sam’s shaft, rolling his tongue several times around the crown when he reached the tip. He wrapped his lips around the fat knob and let his lips travel up and down Sam’s length. He felt Sam tug at his hair while he moved his hips to push himself in and out of his mouth and he took his time; tasting him, sucking and curling around him, and making love to him with his mouth, never reaching that rhythm that would make Sam come too soon.

When Dean pulled away to let his tongue glide over Sam’s stomach, Sam’s whole body was thrumming with pleasure. Broken moans fell from his lips and his skin tingled everywhere his brother touched, every brush of Dean’s mouth so intense it felt like a shot of electricity on Sam’s skin. 

After a while, Dean got up to grab the lube. He settled back between Sam’s legs, wetted his fingers as his brother was watching, then dipped one inside Sam’s body before swallowing his cock again, matching the slow bobbing of his head to each push and pull of his finger.  
  
Sam tossed his head back, struggling to focus on the dual sensations of being penetrated and sucked at the same time. The combination of the two making his head spin. He was past ready, and he wanted Dean, all of him, now. 

The full lips kept gliding down Sam’s cock and a second finger joined the first one. Dean sucked harder as he pushed his two fingers in, moving them in circles inside the tight walls. Sam let out a soft groan. His body twisted, legs spreading wider, hips shooting off the mattress, and he buried himself deeper into Dean’s mouth while fucking himself on his brother’s fingers. He shoved a finger into his mouth and bit into it to muffe his cries. It was so good. His head rolled on the pillow. 

“Dean,” he moaned, trying to get his brother to hurry it up. 

Dean pulled up to plant a wet kiss on Sam’s stomach. His free hand rose to stroke the smooth chest, in an attempt to calm Sam down, then he went back to nursing Sam’s cock and working his intimate muscles to open him up, making sure Sam was ready, his patience and gentleness a stark contrast to the way he had taken Sam the last time, pounding him violently on the living room floor, knowing he was hurting his brother, but too damn angry to care. This time, Dean wanted Sam to experience only pleasure, treat him like he deserved to be, and show him there was much more to their relationship than Sam getting smacked around and rammed full of cock on all fours.

Dean could tell Sam was ready to explode when he finally worked the third finger in. He no longer had the strength or desire to deny Sam what he wanted, and he was so hard he felt he could come from the sounds Sam was making alone as he wriggled on the bed, calling Dean’s name, begging to be taken. 

He slathered lube all over his cock and wrapped his brother’s hand around it, handing Sam the wheel. Sam played with the rock-hard length, letting his fingers glide up and down the slick flesh, before closing them around the tip. He twisted his wrist a couple of times, sending pleasant shivers down Dean’s spine and guided his brother into his entrance.

Relaxing his muscles, he slowly worked the throbbing member in, swallowing Dean to the hilt with little resistance. He left his fingers trapped between their bodies, forming them into a tight ring that he squeezed around Dean’s shaft as his brother moved in and out of him. 

Dean moaned at the added stimulation. He pressed his body on top of Sam and bit his neck as he drove deep and fast into him. Sam eyes rolled to the back of his head when his brother started hitting his sweet spot harder with every stroke. It didn’t take long before the pressure vibrating in his body exploded in a flood of pleasure. It was the most incredible feeling, riding the waves of ecstasy while Dean was still thrusting in and out of his depths, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, urging him to come for him. 

His cock quickly grew to its full size again while Dean moved inside him. Sam locked his arms around his brother, one hand skimming up and down Dean’s back. He bit into  Dean’s  shoulder when Dean punched hard into that pleasure spot again. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with Dean’s scent, relishing the taste of his skin.  Words started spilling from his lips. “Feels so good, baby. Deeper… Yeah, like that... Harder.” Things he was not allowed to say out loud before, while his master fucked him. Dean was happy to oblige. He picked up the pace, thrusting fast and wild, calling Sam that sweet little name as he pounded the small passage. 

The nickname had the effect of an aphrodisiac on Sam, and when Dean grabbed a handful of his ass to spread him a little wider as he slammed into him, he felt a second orgasm rise within him. He came with a strangled cry, his muscles spasming around the hot flesh inside him, and he looked up when Dean called out his name, just in time to see his brother surrender to pleasure as he was pouring himself into Sam in a long, powerful climax.

“Sammy…”

Dean looked into  Sam’s eyes and slowly pressed his lips down on his. He wound his fingers in Sam’s hair and gently explored the every corner of sweet, warm mouth. Sam moaned softly when their tongues intertwined and eagerly returned the long, languid kiss. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered when his brother finally slumped next to him, an arm hooked Sam’s waist to hold him close. 

Dean took Sam’s hand and placed it over the left side of his chest, wordlessly replying that his heart was all Sam’s. A smile blossomed on Sam’s face. He  nestled against his brother and closed his eyes. The last thought to cross his mind as he was drifting into sleep,, was that he had never seen anything more striking than Dean, when he gave himself to the pleasure only Sam could offer him, an expression of agonizing bliss painted on his beautiful face. 

_Part V - Pretty Little Angel_   


__


	5. Pretty Little Angel

**PART V: PRETTY LITTLE ANGEL**

****

Sam smiled as he explored the contours of his brother’s face. His fingertip followed the arch of the eyebrow, slid down the cheek, traced the shape of the generous mouth and brushed the jaw line, dipping into the cleft of the chin they had both inherited from their father.

He was tempted to wake Dean up, just so he could stare into the bright green eyes and feel those soft lips moving under his. He decided to wait a little. He enjoyed looking at him like this, relaxed and unguarded in sleep.

He was pulled away from the bewitching sight by the ringtone of Dean’s phone. He turned around and grabbed it from the bedside table, picking up when he recognized the name on the caller ID.

“Hey Bobby,” he greeted.

“You sound a lot better the last time we spoke kid,” the old man observed. “How are you doing? Or do I need to ask?”

Sam’s smile widened. “I’m good.”

“And your brother?”

Sam heard Dean stir behind him. He felt his brother’s hand slide over his hip and he rolled over to look at him. He rubbed his palm to the side of Dean’s face, feeling his chest tighten when Dean leaned into the touch.

“He’s good, too,” he replied, his eyes eyes closing briefly when his brother pressed a quiet good morning kiss on his mouth.

“You boys okay?”

Sam watched Dean climb on top of him and he jumped when he felt the tip of his tongue curl around his nipple.

“Yeah, we’re…um, we’re doing great,” he panted, bucking like a wild horse to get Dean off of him, when Dean proceeded to tickle his belly with the tip of his nose.

“Good to hear, ’cause I need you both with your heads in the game. I have a lead: The sword of-”

“Uh Bobby, hold on a second please!”

Sam covered the phone receiver and let out a small moan when he felt a warm gust of breath hover over the tip of his cock. He lifted his head, pressed his knees on both sides of Dean’s head, and started to squeeze, threatening his brother with a whispered, “Don’t you dare!”, ready to choke him to death with his thighs if he tried to pull that stunt while _Uncle_ Bobby was on the other end of the line.

Dean raised his hands in surrender, and moved himself out of harm’s way when Sam finally loosened his grip. He headed to the bathroom and winked at his brother before closing the door.

Sam let himself fall back on the bed with a smile, and he turned his attention back to his interlocutor.

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry, Bobby. You were saying? Something about a sword?”

“Yeah, ya idjit. The sword of Michael. You boys got drunk last night, didn’t you?” Bobby asked, with the indulgent tone of a parent accustomed to his sons’ shenanigans.

“Uh…”

“Sleep it off and come to Sioux Falls tomorrow. Don’t get behind the wheel today, ya hear?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Bobby. See you tomorrow,” Sam replied, grateful he didn’t have to come up with a lie to explain why he was so distracted.

He hung up and laughed out loud. They still had a whole planet to save, but he was feeling good and strangely carefree. He was madly in love, he had his brother back, and Dean loved him, too. It was all he needed, and he was in the mood to celebrate and have a little fun. He decided he would follow his brother into the bathroom, take his shower with him, and maybe collect on that blow job Dean was teasing him with.

There was just one thing he needed to do, then he could spend the rest of the day floating in a dream before they went back to work tomorrow. One thing that was nagging at him and still weighing on his mind. He had held on to it all this time, but now that they had dealt with the issues of the previous year, he was ready to get rid of the last reminder of the most horrible fight the Winchester brothers ever had.

He picked up his own phone and looked for it. He had only listened to it once, but every word was burned into his brain, and he knew exactly where to find it even if he skipped over it every time he checked his messages.

He hadn’t meant to listen to it, really hadn’t, but the second he heard the first words, _“Hey, it’s… me”_ , instead of _“Listen to me you blood sucking freak…”_ , he knew something was wrong. All the joy bled out of his pores as he listened to Dean, apologizing to him, and telling him he would always be his brother, no matter what. He sat up at the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor and his back hunched as his eyes welled up with tears. _“What are you, a twelve year old girl? Just play it already.”_

_The bitch._

He had had doubts until the end. Many times, he had wondered if Dean wasn’t right, especially when poor Cindy McKellan was screaming for her life in the trunk of the car. He had only found it in himself to drink her blood when he had heard the fake message, and been convinced he had lost Dean ― everything ― forever. Who knows all the devastation the world, the two of them, and himself could have been spared if he had had heard Dean’s real message? He hid his face in his hands and gave himself away to the pain and guilt. He didn’t hear his brother call his name several times.

“Sammy! Sammy, you okay? Is it Bobby? What’s going on?”

Dean fell to his knees in front of his brother and cupped his face, forcing him to look up.

“Sammy, say something, you’re starting to freak me out.”

“Dean…”

Sam shook his head, still refusing to open his eyes. He was ashamed, all over again, to look his brother in the eyes. Just when he thought they were finally putting this nightmare behind them.

“Talk to me, babe,” Dean begged. “Whatever it is, you know it’s gonna be okay, don’t you? We’ll figure it out, you know we will.”

“I… I didn’t get your message,” Sam stammered after a while.

“Huh?” was all Dean could offer, as he was completely caught off guard.

“I never got your message,” Sam repeated. “I never got _that_ message.”

Dean finally noticed the cell phone on the floor, still on. He could pick it up and listen to whatever was playing to make sure, but he already knew what it was. Besides, he could only think of one thing that would still have the power to rattle Sam like this; something to do with the night everything went wrong. He turned the phone off and smiled in relief.

After Sam had walked out on him at the hotel, Dean had been close to giving up, but he had recognized the wisdom of Bobby’s advice and pushed his pride aside to reach out to his brother one more time. Back then it had hurt to see that Sam had disregarded the olive branch he was extending; and it made Dean feel so good to discover that Sam had simply never gotten it.

He didn’t know exactly what Sam got instead, but he had some idea. Dean’s voice, and horrible, hurtful words that had thrown Sammy over the edge. Dean was surprised he didn’t feel even a sliver of anger at the memory of the demon he knew had doctored his message.

All he saw was that, if she had felt compelled to give that extra push to get Sam back on mission, it was because Sam had doubted her, and doubted the soundness of what they were doing together. It meant that, even after everything that had happened between them, Sam was still thinking about Dean, and wondering whether his big brother could have been telling the truth the whole time.

Dean moved closer to Sam and pressed kisses over the wet cheeks, wiping them with his mouth, ignoring Sam’s feeble attempts to make him stop. He took the slightly trembling hands in his and got up.

“Come here, Angel,” he said, pulling the tense frame into the safe haven of his arms.

I’m not,” Sam protested weakly. _Angel_ … Not the dicks they needed to be hidden from by the one angel they could trust. Dean was referring to the kind their mother, Mary, believed in; good, benevolent protectors who watched over you, showed you the light when you got lost, lifted you to safety when you fell. The name fit Dean better, especially if you added ‘Guardian’ to it. “That’s more your thing…” Sam mumbled. People used different words to describe him. _Monster_ and _abomination_ came to mind. Angel? “I’m not-”

“Yes, you are,” Dean insisted, caressing the damp cheeks. “To me, you are. Since the day I first saw you, and you grabbed my heart with your tiny little fists and refused to let go. You had me wrapped around your fingers, even then.”

Dean smiled when Sam chuckled in spite of himself, and he led him to the bathroom and into the shower. He turned the water on, soaped up his hands, moved Sam around so he was facing the spray and started rubbing his brother’s upper body. His slippery fingers moved in circles, massaging the aches and pains, guilt and old hurts, out of the back he had once covered in bruises, lovingly gliding over every muscle, dip, and curve, moving all the way up to knead the shoulders and ease the tension out of the neck.

He slowly worked his way down the arms, and by the time he had reached the tip of the fingers, Sam’s body was pliant and completely relaxed under his hands. He grinned at the blissful sighs escaping from his brother’s mouth, and got on his knees to give the magnificent backside he couldn’t get enough of, the same treatment, squeezing and stroking the glistening globes before running his fingers up and down the cleft. He resisted the temptation to spend too much time there, and traveled down the back of the long, harmonious legs, lathering them all the way down to the ankles.

Sam was swaying on his feet when Dean turned him around. He leaned against the tiles and braced himself against the wall when his brother started washing his feet, careful and worshipful, giving absolution and praise, like a humble king showing the one who thought he was but a lowly sinner, that he was a prince in his eyes, a priceless jewel to be treasured and admired. Every slow touch of the cleansing ritual felt so sacred and erotic that, when Dean’s hands reached the inside of his thighs, Sam had tears in his eyes and his flesh was swelling with arousal.

Dean lavished attention on that much appreciated part of Sam’s anatomy, leaving it rigid and aching. He smoothed his soapy palms up the solid abs, and let them roam all over the muscular chest before reuniting them around Sam’s neck. He allowed Sam to steal a few hungry kisses and told him to close his eyes while he washed his face with the same care and gentleness Sam had used, when he was mapping out Dean’s features moments earlier. Then he turned Sam around one more time to wash his hair and he joined him under the shower head, letting the soa and hot water do the rest while they kissed.

After that, Dean took Sam who was feeling drowsy, loose and pure as the whitest snow, back into their room, to dirty him up some more, as he whispered sweet promises amid naughty words in his ears, and showed him how much he loved him, over and over again; and when Sam passed out under his brother’s kisses hours later, sore, hoarse, dripping with come and sticky with sweat, he had never felt so clean; immaculate and unstained.

 

_Epilogue: Call Me Sammy_


	6. Epilogue: Call Me Sammy

** EPILOGUE: CALL ME SAMMY **

_ A year and six months later. _

“So hold me close, better hang on tight. Buckle up, baby, it’s a bumpy ride. We’re two kids hitching down the road of life. Our world, our fight!”

Sam made the Impala roar, taking off like a rocket when the light turned green. He was yelling the Bon Jovi song blaring from his iPod at the top of his lungs, throwing surreptitious glances at his brother from time to time to catch him rolling his eyes at him.

_ “Driver picks the music.” _ The old rules were still in place. They had also added a new one: Whoever drove on the way up, ceded the wheel on the way back.

“Cause you were born to be my baby, and baby, I was made to be your man. We got something to believe in, even if we don't know where we stand. Only God would know the reasons, but I bet he must have had a plan-”

“Turn that crap music off, Sammy,” Dean said, right on cue, hiding a smile behind the gruff tone. 

He loved seeing Sam like this, making up for the years confined to the passenger seat, the wind in his face as he sped down the two-lane blacktop, laughter punctuating the rhymes he sang off key, loud enough to break the windows ―and Dean’s ears―. 

This was what he had always wanted, to be able to see Sammy happy, instead of morose and haunted, his tall frame hunched under the weight of the world and of all the demons that were chasing him in his nightmares.

“Shotgun shuts his cock-sucking mouth,” Sam replied with a wink.

Dean chortled and cuffed Sam upside the head, further messing the carefully styled locks already tangled by the fast wind. Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother, wiggling the tip in a suggestive way and continued ‘singing’.

They had spent the past weekend at Sioux Falls, relaxing and playing cards, while sharing Bobby’s burnt turkey with a ton of cranberry sauce, and all the beer they needed to make it go down. It was their first Thanksgiving since they had removed the impending threat of Armageddon. The food had been awful, but they had a lot to be thankful for. 

They had spent a harrowing year looking for ways to stop the Devil. Through the highs and lows, angels’ machinations and Lucifer’s threats, they had drawn strength from each other, and kept a united front while they defeated their numerous enemies. 

A final alliance with an old nemesis had helped them put Satan back in the dungeon, while avoiding turning into the vessels of mass destruction they were supposedly born to be. The Archangel Gabriel, who had been hiding on earth disguised as the Trickster God Loki, had refused to kill his brother. Thankfully, the millennia he had spent among mortals, and his healthy appreciation for earthly delights, had made him sympathetic to the plague befalling humans. 

He had revealed to the Winchesters that the Horsemen’s rings constituted the keys to the cage, and held Lucifer prisoner inside a wall of Holy Fire to give Sam and Dean enough time to open the hole that would drag Nick and his demon down without getting turned into finger paint in the process. 

Six months after they had saved the world with the help of a winged runaway, they were coming back from the swanky place Dean had whisked Sam off to for a special occasion. Toward the end of their meal, he had handed Sam the deed to the house they had been occupying for a month and a half. 

Dean had been working on the surprise for a while. When he had first gone to Bobby for assistance, the retired hunter had informed him that he already had a couple of houses in mind for them. After the war, Bobby had been put in charge of managing the assets of the fallen hunters who had no will and no family to pass on their properties to. 

Dean had visited the three homes and chosen the one he knew Sam would like best. He had dragged his little brother there from their crappy motel room, in the middle of the night, pretending a friend of Bobby’s was lending it to them for a few months. 

Once he and Bobby had falsified all the necessary documents, Dean had made reservations at a nice place Sam had mentioned once, and taken him there to unveil the surprise. Sam’s joyful response had made all the sneaking around and shady alibis Dean had used while plotting behind his brother’s back worth it. 

“Can’t believe it’s ours,” Sam said when he parked the car in front of the two-story, three-bedroom house, his eyes sparkling as he looked at it as if he was seeing it for the first time.

Dean followed his brother inside, his grin getting wider when he saw how Sam was planning on showing his appreciation. The only thing more beautiful than Sam in a suit was Sam without anything on, and Dean stared, hypnotized while his brother tossed his suit jacket onto the table near the staircase, toed off his shoes, took off his socks, then unknotted his tie, letting it slip to the floor before unbuttoning his shirt, and unhooking his belt, slow and deliberate. He watched every move, his eyes darkening with lust when the pants dropped to the ankles, followed by the last piece of clothing.  
  
Sam tugged playfully at Dean’s tie before turning away to slowly make his way up the stairs. He glanced over his shoulder with a little smirk and turned away again.  
  
Dean bit his lips, starving all over again.  The way Sam switched from blushing virgin to seducer and back again, drove him crazy. His eyes slid down the muscular back and rested on the small letter tattooed above Sam’s butt. He raced up the stairs and wrapped his arms around his brother’s thighs, preventing Sam from going any further. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dean asked.

The little tease shrugged, looking like he had no idea what Dean was getting so worked up about. “Upstairs,” Sam answered with a charming pout.

“Uh, uh, baby boy.”

Dean followed the lines of the capital “D” artistically drawn over the small of Sam’s back with his tongue. H e had once told Sam how much he liked that spot on his body, and Sam had Dean’s initial tattooed there three months ago as a gift to him.

Dean loved it. He looked down at it when he made love to Sam from behind, and touched it constantly, without even realizing it, through his brother’s clothes. Sam always got the same shy, pleased smile when he did, and Dean knew it reminded Sam of the time Dean guided him around with his hand pressed there, a short moment in time when Sam wore a slave collar around his neck for the world to see. Dean had given it back to Sam to do with what he wanted, and Sam had kept it, wearing it once in a while to surprise Dean, and when he was in the mood to be handled a little roughly.

Dean moved his lips over the inked skin. He was getting a similar tattoo done for Sam’s birthday. He would place the “S” on one of his brother’s favorite spot, his shoulder. Either the  one Sam rested his head on when he was tired, or the other, the one he sank his teeth into when he was about to come.

Sam arched his back under the soft caress and Dean made him turn around, pushing Sam down until he was sitting, leaning back against the steps. He caught Sam’s mouth in a kiss and felt the long fingers gently undo his tie and open his shirt.

“I love you,” Sam said when Dean left his lips to nibble on his throat, rubbing his crotch against the soft fabric of the black dress pants, aroused by the fact that he was completely naked and Dean wasn’t, yet.

“Dean,” he moaned when he felt his brother’s bulge ground into him.

“What do you want, Angel?” Dean answered.

He wanted to give Sam everything. A home, a safe life, unconditional love, and all the kinky sex you could want were a nice start, but if Sam wanted a piece of the moon, or front row tickets to the next Bon Jovi concert, Dean would get them for him if Sam asked nicely enough.

Sam smiled. _Angel._ He liked that nickname, almost as much as the other one. Heat rushed to his cheeks when he thought of the sinful things Dean was always doing to him when he was calling him that. He pulled his brother closer and whispered, “Call me Sammy” in his ear, before planting a wet kiss on his neck, his eyes lighting up with the pure, juvenile joy of a man who no longer had to worry about demons jumping his bones, or pushing him into the bowels of Hell ever again.

Dean complied with a chuckle. Their relationship had been painful, chaotic, complicated, so powerful and threatening, they had to defend it from demons and angels who repeatedly tried to tear them apart; but when they were like this, two kids playing naughty games in a world that had regained its balance, it was as simple as Dean, the big brother who would steal the neighbor’s Christmas tree and every last star from the sky for the little one he cherished, and Sammy the little one who cried bitter tears and would offer all his toys when the big brother he idolized was disappointed in him, and stopped calling him by that sweet name he swore he hated.

“So,” Sam asked seductively, after Dean had repeated it enough times, “are you gonna fuck me right here or take me upstairs?”

“I’m thinking both. Let’s start with the stairs.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “Cause I got a surprise for you, but it’s in the room.”

“Yeah? Can’t wait to see it.”

Sam looked down and fiddled with his brother’s amulet, suddenly wondering if it was a good idea. What if it was too early? A silver ring to replace the one Dean had lost during the last year, but twhich meant something completely different than the previous one. 

“I hope you’ll like it,” he said, unable to hide the uncertainty in his voice. He was pretty sure Dean would be fine with the concept. It was the whole, old-fashion, getting down on one knee with a ring in a box thing he wasn’t too sure about. Hey, at least he was naked. Dean never said no to him when he was naked…

Dean leaned down to give Sam another kiss. He let his tongue wind around Sam’s for a while and gently nibbled on the soft bottom lip as he pulled away. He smiled at his brother, wondering how Sam could be worried about anything when he could make Dean putty in his hands with a single glance. “You know I love you,” he said. “And I’m sure I’m gonna like it.”

Sam nodded, feeling more confident. He grabbed Dean ’s wrist and pulled him toward  their room. Dean gladly followed, his eyes locked on the single letter that was moving to the rhythm of his brother’s steps.

Upstairs, he turned off the light in the hallway, grinning at the thought of the ring he had been hiding at the bottom of his drawer for a week, waiting for this day to give it to Sam.

“Besides, I got one for you, too,” he said as he was closing the door behind them. 

“Why don’t we exchange them at the same time?” Sam suggested.

“Sure,” Dean agreed with a covert smile. 

He couldn’t wait to see the expression on his baby brother’s face when he popped the question. He let out a quiet laugh, very happy with himself. 

There was no way Sammy could match his second surprise, he would bet the house on it…

 

 

La Fin 


End file.
